


It Happened One Midsummer Night...

by captainswanismyendgame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Correspondence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hogwarts Seventh Year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2018-08-19 10:44:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8202634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainswanismyendgame/pseuds/captainswanismyendgame
Summary: Hermione Granger has decided to return to Hogwarts for her seventh year to try and figure out who she is away from The Golden Trio. The fact that a certain Potions professor is also returning may have factored into that decision as well. But unbeknownst to her, the infatuation is mutual, as well as mutual love for a certain playwright.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I've been wanting to do this for quite some time, and I finally made the plunge into the world of Harry Potter ff. I have been a HUGE Snamione shipper for years, and this is my first attempt at writing fic for them, so please be gentle. Huge thanks are in order to Persnickety for being kind enough to beta for me. If you enjoyed, please let me know!

It Happened One Midsummer Night 

  


She sat there in the library of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, trying her hardest to pay attention to the words on the pages of one her favorite plays, but her mind wandered elsewhere. It had been two months since the Final Battle—where her best friend had been victorious over Lord Voldemort—and since then, she felt restless. Since age eleven, she had thwarted every single obstacle that had come at her. Whether it was Dementors, trolls, or Death Eaters, she always had a strategy of getting her and her friends out of the toughest of situations. “The Brightest Witch of Her Age,” they called her. And damn, did she try to live up to that name. Even in the midst of impending doom, she managed to stay ahead in her school work. As it turns out, the older she got, the more she realized that her excessive studying was just a distraction from the evils of the wizarding world. But now that those evils have been vanquished, the drive to complete her studies felt so trivial. Hermione Granger, for the first time in recent memory, felt useless.

  


Despite her feelings, she decided to return to Hogwarts to complete her seventh year. Unlike her two best friends, who were rushed into Auror training not 24 hours after Voldemort’s defeat. Hermione wondered if maybe she spent her time figuring out how make a difference in the world by herself, instead of as a part of the Golden Trio, maybe she could finally rid herself of that useless feeling. And the place she felt that she could accomplish that is the one place that she considered her home. She still planned on taking her NEWTS, so she wasn't completely letting go of her studious endeavors, but would it be so wrong for others to see her for her who she was and not just "the brains"? 

  


She needed a distraction, to occupy herself from the onslaught of negative thoughts, and Shakespeare always provided that for her. Ever since she was a little girl—even before she knew she was a witch—the stories of Shakespeare were her only escape from her seemingly mundane life.   _ If only one could Occlude against their own thoughts… _

  


Just as she was about to continue getting lost in the words of the Bard, she heard the pounding of feet coming from the staircase.  A flurry of red hair rushed into the room moments later.

  


“Hermione, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” 

  


Hermione closed her book for the moment to give her friend her undivided attention.  _ I guess Hermia and Lysander will just have to wait. _  “Ginny, are you alright? You seemed to be in a hurry.”

  


“Well, an owl from Hogwarts just arrived, and you might be interested in what they dropped by.” Ginny wiggled an envelope addressed to Hermione in front of her face, the seal of which had already been broken. 

  


“Ginevra Weasley! Why are you going through my post?”

  


“Because I’m nosy, and you know it. Now, would you just look inside already?!” 

  


Shaking her head but smiling, Hermione lifted the flap of the envelope, and she almost dropped it right there. She could only see it slightly, but she knew that badge better than anyone. She had been striving for it since she started at Hogwarts. She was going to be Head Girl. 

  


“Oh my goodness...I can’t believe it…” Hermione was in shock. 

  


“Yeah, right! I’m pretty sure as soon as you decided to come back, they were already engraving your name on it!”

  


Hermione playfully pushed her friend. “Oh, hush! You know as well as I know it's embroidered, not engraved.” They both erupted into a fit of giggles. But their gleeful moment was interrupted by the slamming of the front door. Two familiar voices echoed in the nearby hallways, so Ginny called out to them. “Harry, Ron, come here!”

  


Two pairs of thunderous footfalls got louder and louder as the boys rushed into the library. They were adorned in their black Auror robes, still with the word “trainee” plastered on the back. Ron was the first to speak. “What’s up, Gin? You called?”

  


Beaming at her brother and Harry, she announced, “Hermione has some wonderful news!”

  


“You’re not going back to school after all?” Ron asked.

  


“You invented a spell to finally make me remember how to fix my glasses?” Harry asked. 

  


“Harry, even I’m not that talented,” Hermione joked. “Gentleman, you’re looking at the new Head Girl!!” 

  


Both Harry and Ron came in for a hug and they shouted for joy. “That’s brilliant, Hermione! But I mean, it’s not like you weren’t going to get it…” Ron started. 

  


“Ronald!”

  


“What? I mean, you’re bloody brilliant!” 

  


“What have I told you about cursing, Ron?” she exclaimed. 

  


“That’s it’s undignified, and not the way a gentleman should speak…”

  


“Exactly. Now, I appreciate all of you being excited for me, I really do…”

  


“We interrupted you reading again, didn’t we?” Harry finished for her. “Come on, you lot. I think we should leave the Head Girl alone to celebrate. Besides, your Mum is cooking here tonight, Ron.”

  


“Yeah, she invited George, too. He's been having a hard time as of late. Thanks for letting them do this, by the way.”

  


“No trouble at all. We will just go see if she and Kreacher need any help setting up, and leave Hermione alone for a bit more,” Harry said. 

  


“You mean, she wouldn’t want to join us in a celebratory game of Exploding Snap?” Ginny joked. 

  


“You know I’m rubbish at that game, Ginny.”

  


“Exactly, so I would be the one celebrating,” she winked at Hermione. They all started laughing uncontrollably. 

  


Their laughter was once again halted by the front door opening and slamming shut. Hermione was fairly certain that they weren’t expecting someone else that evening, other than George and Arthur, but the sound of the boots connecting with the wooden floor was all too familiar. There was a tightening in her chest, and her heartbeat escalated. There was only one person who made her feel that way, and the scent of sandalwood and rosemary that permeated the library even before he stepped into view only confirmed her suspicions. The entry of the room was soon blocked by a towering figure dressed in black. His dark, shoulder-length hair fell down around his face. Some people might call his nose “hooked,” but the older she got, the more she realized how distinguished it was on his face. His almost-black eyes scanned the room, and the moment they connected with hers, her breath hitched. She couldn’t remember when it happened, but she had known for a while that she felt more than just respect for her Potions professor. 

  


Ever since she found out that he had survived Nagini’s bite, she had thought about when she would see him again. A not-so-small part of her knew that he was another reason why she was going back to Hogwarts. She knew that even before then, her affections towards him morphed from respect, to admiration, to more than just a “schoolgirl crush.” But considering their positions and the considerable age difference (not the she personally cared about it), Hermione kept her feelings to herself. She was aware that nothing would ever happen, simply because they had known each other for so long, and she knew how he felt about her: she was the “over-achieving Muggle-born with a penchant for reciting texts word-for-word without actually using her brain to think on her own.” Despite his constant barrage of berating remarks, she felt a mysterious pull to be around him. She could see in his sunken eyes a tortured soul, and it pained her. She spent most of her life feeling belittled by him, when the entire time she had known him, he was just trying to survive. 

His eyes landed on hers one again, and she stood stock still, not knowing what to do or say. Luckily, he did so for her. “I hear congratulations are in order, Miss Granger. Professor McGonagall just gave me the news that our resident know-it-all has achieved one of her life-long goals.” He still couldn’t dole out compliments with some back-handed insult towards her. Hermione’s head dipped low, embarrassed. 

  


“Snape, why are you here?  Did you come here to ridicule Hermione or did you have another reason for being here?” Harry griped. 

  


“I may not be your professor anymore, Potter, but that does not mean that you are allowed to speak to me in such a manner. And as to my reason visiting, I do believe I was invited by your surrogate mother. Apparently she felt the need to extend an invitation to dinner this evening, and I accepted. But it was quite convenient, considering I actually have something to discuss with Miss Granger.” All four of them waited for him to start talking, but he emphasized, “Alone.”

  


The other three huffed, as they made their way out of the library. Ginny stood behind, clasping her hand on Hermione’s shoulder and walked out. Ginny, much like her brother and Harry, were very protective of each other. Ginny saw first-hand the nights that Hermione cried herself to sleep over Snape’s cutting remarks. Ginny gave Snape a look as if to say, “You mess with her, you mess with me,” she walked passed him, leaving Hermione alone with the dark, brooding professor.  

  


Snape stood there, gazing down at the woman before him. Yes, he admitted to himself that the know-it-all had grown from a constant thorn in his side as a child to brave, intelligent, and―most unsettling for him―beautiful woman. He hadn’t seen her since the night of the Final Battle, as he lay there in the Shrieking Shack, the poison from Nagini’s bite travelling through his bloodstream. He wanted to let the venom take him; he wanted to finally be greeted by death. His eyes were on the verge of closing for good, when an image formed behind his lids: chestnut curls flowing the breeze; hazel eyes brightening as the gazed upon him; and the most dazzling smile that he had ever laid his eyes on. He wasn’t sure why he thought of her in his final moments, but before he knew it, he was reaching for the bezoar hidden in his robe and placing it under his tongue. 

  


Two months had gone by since that day, and that same vision has haunted him. Seeing her every night in his dreams—she was like a siren calling out to him. He was being driven mad with the need to see her, but how? 

  


A few weeks after the battle, Minerva called him back to Hogwarts and asked him about his future. Minerva started off by apologizing to him, which he emphasized that she was already forgiven. He then told her in no uncertain terms that the position of Headmaster (or, Headmistress, as it were) was hers. He told her that he would be more than happy to take back the position as Potions professor. When she asked him about the DADA position, he responded, “I’ve seen enough Dark Arts to last me multiple lifetimes.” She smiled, but she insisted that he take the position of Deputy Headmaster, if only to appease an aging woman. He laughed, and they fell back into their usual banter, talking of everything and nothing. 

  


When the  topic of Head Boy and Girl came up, Minerva brought up the fact that Hermione would be returning to finish her seventh year, and all color drained from his face. The person who has been haunting his dreams for the past month would be back in his classroom, unknowingly taunting him every time she bit her lip as she asked a question, or when her eyes lit up at his reluctantly awarding house points. Any semblance of control he had would be tested each and every lesson, and he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep up the facade. That was when inspiration struck, and he talked to Minerva about teaching assistant positions. It had been years since they had been implemented, but considering his dilemma, it seemed the perfect solution. Either that, or he just sped up his downfall. 

  


Seeing her now, the rosy flush on her cheeks and the way her navy blue jumper accentuated her womanly curves—he knew that the girl who he taught for so many years was gone, replaced by the goddess in front him. 

  


“May I sit down?” he asked, the question almost straining from his lips. The tight blue jeans she wore did little to hide her shapely hips; he thanked each and every god that his robes hid his obvious infatuation. 

  


Hermione nodded, and Snape swept through the room, his robe billowing without wind. He sat beside her on the chaise lounge. She refused to look at him, no doubt still feeling the affect of his stinging barb at her as he entered the room. He hated himself for doing so immediately after, but he had to keep up the image in front of her friends for now. But like this, just the two of them, he wanted to change how she saw him. 

  


“Miss Granger, look at me.” Hermione lifted her head, and he stared openly inter her stunning hazel eyes. “I regret to inform you that I will not be allowing to take seventh year Potions with me this year...”

  


Hermione’s eyes widened in shock. She had gone from the high of being named Head Girl to the low of having the professor whom she was admittedly infatuated with calling her his awful nickname and subsequently kicking her out of his class. She had to find some way to amend the situation. 

  


“Professor, there has to be a way for me to be included in this course. You know I will work harder than any student has! I’ll do any extra work you require of me…” Hermione’s hands were flying all over the place in her animated state. 

  


Snape couldn’t concentrate with her limbs in constant state of motion, so he took his hand and placed them on her wrists, trapping them in his grip. “Will you desist?”

  


The feeling of his hands on her skin caused the butterflies in her stomach to flutter.

Touching the delicate flesh of her hand if only for a moment caused his body to stiffen all over. 

  


Neither were aware of affect of the other’s touch. 

  


“Now that I have your undivided attention, may I continue?” All Hermione could do was nod. Her brain couldn’t form a coherent sentence, even if it wanted to at that moment. “Before I was interrupted, I was saying that I will not be allowing you in my class this year...as a student.” Her eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “I brought this up to the new Headmistress, and she agreed that you wouldn’t benefit from sitting in class, but to actually apply your knowledge in a more meaningful manner. So, Miss Granger, should you wish to accept it, I am offering you the position of teaching assistant.”

  


When the information finally reached her brain, she couldn’t help the smile that formed. “Trust me when I say this will not be easy. I will work you harder than any of my students, because I will require you to not only help with grading assignments, but you will also be assisting me in brewing for Madam Pomfrey to keep the infirmary well-supplied. If you show exemplary progress, I might even allow you assist on personal projects as well.”

  


She couldn’t believe her ears. She went with her gut instinct. “Yes.”

  


“Now, Miss Granger, I need you to be certain…”

  


“Oh, I am absolutely certain!” She couldn’t tamper her excitement. This was just what she was looking for, and it was gift-wrapped to her in the form of her Potions professor. “Do I need to sign anything?”

  


He waved his hand, saying, “Unnecessary. I just need to inform the Headmistress of your decision, and she will adjust your schedule accordingly. She was very excited at the thought of having you under my own personal tutelage.”  _ And so was I... _

  


“Of course. I don’t know what to say other than thank you.”

  


“You are most welcome. I will be in contact with you soon about your schedule and the duties I will require of you.” Snape lifted himself up from the chaise lounge, but before making his leave to head to the dining room, he noticed the book Hermione had sitting on the window sill. “Shakespeare?”

  


Hermione looked to the book, and back to her professor. “‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’s my favorite comedy.”

  


“ _ Lord, what fools these mortals be! _ ” he quoted. 

  


Hermione couldn’t believe that the words of Shakespeare were coming from her professor’s lips. It was bad enough that she could listen to him recite potion ingredients and it would make her swoon, but Shakespeare? Just one line, and she was a mess. “You know it?”

  


An actual smiled appeared on his face. “You forget that my father was a Muggle. There was a place for Shakespeare even in our home. That particular comedy was my first introduction to magic, until I began to show signs of having it.”

  


Hermione was amazed that she was actually getting a glimpse of the man behind the mysterious facade, and so willingly. She wondered if agreeing to be his teaching assistant will make him open up to her more. She had a feeling they would be spending much more time together, which made her both excited and nervous. On a whim, she delivered one of her favorite lines. “ _ Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind… _ ”

  


“ _ And therefore is winged cupid painted blind _ .” As he spoke the words, he looked directly into her eyes, pinning her there under his steely gaze. She couldn’t move, only stare in the black pools of his eyes, hidden behind the curtain of black hair. For some reason, she thought he did so deliberately, so that she couldn’t gauge his reaction. But that would mean that she was affecting him in some way, and that was just preposterous... _ wasn’t it? _

  


He cleared his throat, backing up towards the entrance. “I believe dinner is going to be served soon. Will you be gracing us with your presence?”

  
“Yes, Professor. I’ll be just a moment,” Hermione answered, and then was shocked to see the professor do something she had never seen before: he smiled. And not just smiled, he smiled at her. She sat on the chaise lounge for a while after he left, playing out their conversation over and over again in her mind. What she didn’t hear was as he was just outside of the library, he looked back to the library and whispered to himself, “ _And though she be but little, she is fierce._ ”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at Grimmauld has both Severus and Hermione trying to keep their emotions within, and a letter leads to more Shakespearean quotes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm honestly floored by the response to this! I never thought it would get as much traction as it did! The Snamione fandom is truly incredible! So, it might be shorter, but here's chapter 2! Thanks again to my lovely beta, Persnickety,

“Thank you for joining us on such short notice, Severus.” Molly Weasley levitated a massive turkey in the middle of the kitchen table just as Severus passed through to the room. The table was littered with all kinds of trimmings, along with five ginger-topped heads, and one of dark brown. “We weren’t sure if you would make it.”

 

“And deny myself a meal prepared by you? You offend me.” Even though his lips never lifted into a smile, he knew that Molly could he was teasing, purely from her eyes rolling in the back of her head. 

 

“Come now, you old codger. Sit down already!” 

 

Severus sauntered over to the other end of the table; he would be facing Arthur as the other head. There were only two remaining empty chairs: one to the right of Arthur, which was clearly reserved for Molly; the other to right. And since everyone else had clearly chosen theirs, that could only mean the last seat was meant for…

 

“Hermione! There you are, dear! Just in time; we were just about to start!” 

 

Molly called out towards the archway just as mass of bouncing curls appeared. Her eyes surveyed the room, and when they landed on his, he saw the small intake of breath. She quickly looked away, but the color blossoming on her cheeks was quite endearing.  _ Stop staring at her like a lecher… _

 

“Sorry, just needed to wash up.” Hermione looked at the table, noticing the seat next to Professor Snape. She skipped by the rest of the Weasleys, making her way to the empty chair. She didn’t even make to all the way there before he stood up from his own chair and pulled hers out for her. She stalled, taken aback by such a gesture. She must have been standing there far too long, the clearing of his throat bringing her back to her senses. 

 

“Thank you, Professor,” she said as she sat in the chair and pulled her body up towards the table. 

 

“You’re welcome, Miss Granger.” 

 

She smiled  at him, and he returned it. It was the second time it happened that evening, and still she couldn’t get over that not only was he responding to her gesture, but how far less menacing he appeared overall when he smiled. 

 

“Uh...‘Mione?” 

 

She was startled of a Severus-induced reverie for what seemed the hundredth time that evening. Breaking eye contact, she looked over at the source of the interruption. “What is it, Ronald?” she snapped through gritted teeth. 

 

“Could you pass the pass the potatoes?”

 

_ Can he think of anything other than his stomach?  _ Hermione nodded, lifting the china from the table, holding it out for Harry next to her to hand to Ron. She unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap before loading her plate with food. Each time she put something on her plate, she would hand it to Severus, and each time she would (not so accidentally) brush her fingers over his as he grasped the china from her hands. She knew they were slightly calloused from their minimal contact earlier in the library, but only slightly. He obviously took great care of them outside brewing. 

 

Once everyone had a full plate, Arthur asked Harry, “So, any news when you and Ron start training?”

 

“Within the next week or so. Just submitted the paperwork a few days ago,” Harry answered. 

 

“Is gon’ be wicked!” exclaimed Ron with a mouthful of turkey. 

 

Arthur simply rolled his eyes at his son’s lack of manners. “George, how’s the shop going?”

 

George merely sat there next to his father, picking at his plate. Two months since the death of his twin, and he still hadn’t fully recovered. “It’s fine…” 

 

Arthur frowned as he rubbed George’s shoulder. His attentions turned to his daughter. “Ginny, dear, are you excited about going to back to school?”

 

She nodded. “More so that I know I will have the Head Girl on my side.” She winked over at Hermione. 

 

“You made Head Girl? Oh, that’s wonderful news, Hermione!” Molly shouted exuberantly. “I bet you’re very excited.”

 

“Oh I am, and not just because of that.” Out of her peripheral vision, she noticed him stiffen. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to announce her new position publicly yet, but she still wanted his approval in doing so. She noticed the professor relaxed slightly after she gave him a smirk, and he gave a nod, gesturing that is was okay to reveal the news. 

 

“Professor Snape has offered me the post of teaching assistant. Not sure the full details yet, but I do know I will have grading responsibilities as well as brewing for the infirmary.” 

 

“Teaching assistant? That hasn’t been in practice for decades! Minerva agreed to this?” Molly asked. 

 

Severus wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin before speaking. “I actually went to Minerva regarding this decision. I believe that Hermione’s work ethic and intellect would be better served in this setting. Perhaps, at the end of the year, if she is not opposed to the idea, she would like to become my apprentice.” 

 

This bit of information was spoken as Hermione was taking a sip of her pumpkin juice, which subsequently went spraying across the table. Truth be told, she was also shocked at hearing her actual name spoken in his gorgeous baritone for the first time. A fountain of pumpkin juice was nothing compared the warmth that travelled through her body at hearing her given name on his lips. 

 

Her mouth was slack as he saw Ginny, covered in the muted-orange liquid. 

 

“Gin, I’m so sorry…”

 

“It’s okay; totally needed the shower,” she joked. 

 

After making sure all was right with Ginny, she turned to her left. “Professor?”

 

He straightened his collar and cleared his throat, trying to find the right words to say under her curious gaze.  _ Merlin, her eyes are striking…  _ “I was going to include that in an upcoming letter regarding your duties as my assistant, that if you so wished to do so, that I would be willing to let you apprentice under me.”

 

_ There’s a lot more that I wish I could be doing under you _ , she thought. “Well, the offer is definitely appreciated.”

 

“We can discuss it further at another time.” Severus continued to get lost in her hazel eyes for a few fleeting moments before he resumed eating. She took that as an opportunity to do that same. While devouring her meal, she kept throwing quick looks in his direction, but not long enough for him to notice—at least, that’s what she hoped. 

But he did notice, and every time her eyes darted back to her plate, he couldn't help but observe her behind his curtain of hair. 

 

In the middle of the meal, Arthur clinked his glass with his fork. “Harry, I just wanted to thank you for allowing us to come to your home this evening. It is because of your efforts, and the efforts of so many at this table that we are even able to be here.” Arthur then looked at the opposite end of the table. “Severus, we will never forget everything you sacrificed for the good of wizarding kind. Despite what you think of yourself, you are a hero. I know dinner doesn't even begin to repay for all that you have done, but we wanted you to know how much we appreciate you.”

 

He hardly felt like a hero, the weight of so many unnecessary casualties sitting on his shoulders. He felt like a fraud. “Arthur, that really isn’t necessary, but thank you.”

 

“I agree with Mr. Weasley,” interjected Hermione. “You did what you had to do make sure that Harry was successful in his endeavours.” She raised her glass. “To Professor Snape!” The rest of the table followed her lead, shouted his name in toast. He felt slightly taken aback by her words, but then again, due to her reactions to him the entirety of the evening, maybe it wasn’t as surprising as he thought. 

 

When the meal was finished, as well as dessert, Severus stood up from his seat. “Molly, dinner was exceptional as always. Thank you for the invitation, but I must me going.”

 

“Thank you so much for coming, Severus,” Molly answered. 

 

Arthur was about to get up from his chair and lead Severus to the front door, but Severus put his hand out to him to stop his movement, claiming that it was unnecessary. “I do believe I know where the front door is, Arthur,” he joked. He turned to Hermione, and said, “Expect a letter this evening.”  Then, in a flash of black, he was gone from the kitchen. Hermione released a breath that she didn’t even know she was holding. She also noticed that her there was a slight sheen of sweat on her brow, and that her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She needed to get out of the room before someone asked her what was wrong, so she politely excused herself to return to the library. 

 

Once back in her spot by the window, she willed her body to stop shaking. The way he looked at her all evening—as if she was a sheep and he was the wolf―made her feel something she never felt when she was with Ron, or hell, evening during her momentary interlude with Viktor her fourth year; they were boys. Hermione felt like a woman being desired by a man. But that made no sense; there was no possible way that the professor could be harboring the same kind of feeling she had about him...could he? 

 

Clearing her head, she returned to the spot in the play that she left off before dinner. She read for another hour before she had to readjust her positioning due to the ache in the small of her back. As soon as she found a new position, there was a knock at the glass, startling her right out of her seat and onto the floor. 

 

Lifting herself up from the carpet, she leaned over the lounge and pushed the window open to allow access to the most exquisite raven she had ever seen. Its feathers gave off a bluish-green tint in the light, and it’s eyes her a hypnotic green. 

 

“Well aren’t you gorgeous?” Hermione asked, as she went to pet the bird. She stroked the silky feathers as he took hold of the letter that was resting in its beak. She took treat out of her pocket—ones that she usually saved for Pig—and placed it in her open palm. The raven snatched it quickly. She laughed as she looked at the envelope; she immediately recognized the the sharp yet flowey script as the one that littered her potion’s essays in red ink. Hermione almost ripped the letter in her haste to extract the folded parchment from its velum. 

 

_ Miss Granger, _

 

_ I am very much gratified that you have accepted the position of my teaching assistant. The Headmistress thought that it would be wise of me to ease back into this upcoming term, so you are helping me immensely.  _

 

_ I am also grateful you took my announcement at dinner in stride. As I said before, I had intended to broach the subject in the second half of the school year, as I was not sure what your plans were once you leave Hogwarts. If you wish, we can revisit the subject later.  _

 

_ My next letter will be detailing your duties in full. I simply wanted to send you this missive to thank you once again. You have an incredible mind and aptitude for potions, so I know I have chosen well.  _

 

_ I have instructed Shylock to stay and wait for a reply if necessary.  _

 

“ Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them.”

 

_ S.S. _

 

Hermione beamed as she finished the letter. Not only was he thanking her, but he quoted Shakespeare for her. She clutched it to her chest; she didn’t care if she got caught doing so either. The only person who could judge her at that moment was his familiar. 

 

“Shylock, is it?” He chirped at her. “How appropriate.” 

 

Hermione rushed over to the desk closest to the door, and pulling the chair out to sit. She grabbed a blank parchment, a quill and ink, and set down to compose a reply. 

 

The entire time she was writing, she could not remove that grin that seemed permanently plastered to her face. 

 

_ Come hell or high water, I will show him there is much more than just a brain Hermione Jean Granger.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Who else besides me just thought Shylock is the most appropriate name for Sev's familiar?
> 
> The quote this chapter was from "Twelfth Night."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus awaits a reply from Hermione, and game of quotes ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Surprise! I'm baaaaack! I know, I know...it's been over a year since I updated, but this past year has been very emotional for me, so I apologize. BUT I'm ingraining myself more so in the Snamione fandom online now, which has given me more inspiration for this story. To my new Snamione sisters: thank you for accepeting a new friends. 
> 
> Also of note,this is a reminder that Hermione is 18 (techincally 19) in the timeline of this fic. 
> 
> Thanks go out to my beta for this chapter, Katie, aka SlytherPouf. And HUGE thanks to my little Captain Swan sister Julie, aka cocohook38 for being so kind and doing an official fan art for this fic. If you like it, go give her some love on Tumblr.

Chapter 3 

 

Severus sat in his chestnut leather chair, sipping on three fingers of Old Ogden’s Finest, his brain taken over by thoughts of William Shakespeare and of blue jeans so tights that they looked like a second skin.  _ Is she truly unaware of what she does to me?  _ He sipped on the dark liquid in his crystal tumbler, waiting quite impatiently for her response to his letter. He knew it had only been an hour since he sent his familiar out to her, but he couldn’t help it. 

 

Hermione Granger unnerved him, and he was both excited and terrified. Excited, because for the first time in twenty years, he felt like he’d found someone with whom he could be himself around. But he also remembered what had happened with the last person he’d had feelings for, hence the terrified part. But this would not end the same way; he would make sure of it. She had no paramour to entice her away from him at least, since Potter and Weasley seemed more like siblings to her rather than potential romantic partners. He’d heard about the kiss that she and Weasley had shared during the Final Battle, and had to fight any urge to rip the boy apart, limb from limb. But at dinner tonight, he saw no cause for worry in that regard.

 

But, even so, Severus did not know how to  _ be  _ a romantic partner; most of his experience came from being forced to participate in Death Eater revels and torturing those that Tom brought to said “events”. But he was willing to try and be whatever Hermione needed him to be, because she didn’t know it yet, but she was everything he already needed, and more. 

 

Severus was deep in thought about his new teaching assistant when a tapping noise from his sitting room window caught his attention. He almost spilt his drink by rushing out of his chair so fast. With a flick of his wrist, the window cracked open for the master of wandless magic, and Shylock sailed almost gracefully onto his shoulder. 

 

“Accio Shylock treat,” Snape said aloud, and a chewy substance flew into his palm. “Do you have something for me, old friend?” 

 

Shylock responded with a loud  _ caw  _ right in Severus’s ear. 

 

“No need to shout.” 

 

He held out his open palm for Shylock to peck the treat from it, then went about untying the missive from the raven’s leg. After getting his treat, Shylock flew onto his perch, next to one of Severus’s many bookshelves as he sat back in his chair to read her response. 

 

_ Professor Snape, _

 

He cringed at the letter’s introduction. He would have to make a subtle comment about her addressing him more informally soon. He did not want her to see him as a professor the whole time they would be working together. He  _ needed  _ her to see him as more than that. 

 

Brushing that thought aside, he continued reading. 

 

_ Words fail me over the events of the evening. I know, you finally rendered me speechless. It only took seven years. _

 

_ I am honoured that you have chosen me to be your Teaching Assistant. I will not let your faith in me waver. The opportunity you have given me is one that I would have never expected, but I am eternally grateful.  _

 

_ I also know that I do not need to wait until next term to accept your invitation to apprentice under you. As soon as you mentioned it at dinner this evening, my decision had already been made.  _

 

_ Looks like you’ll be stuck with me for the foreseeable future. Can you handle this much know-it-all in your life?  _

 

_ Anxiously awaiting your next letter, Sir.  _

 

“I can no other answer make, but, thanks, and thanks.”

 

_ Yours,  _

 

_ Hermione J. Granger _

 

Severus re-read her note multiple times, over and over again. Her over-abundance of thanks, including that final Shakespeare quote that had made his heart swell, meant that he could practically feel her excitement through the parchment. He was also stunned at her acceptance for the apprenticeship so early - stunned, but no less delighted. 

 

Then there was the closing of her letter: 

 

“ _ Yours _ .” 

 

Just one single word, and his entire body felt as if he were flying. He wondered, but only for a second, if it was on purpose. And that if it was on purpose, that these feelings he had for her were mutual. Merlin, he hoped beyond hope that the woman who had suddenly ingrained herself in his life would feel the same as he did…

 

Tampering those hopes momentarily, he swooped down the hallway of his chambers to his office, which was the only connection from the classroom to his private rooms. He sat down and pulled on the drawer to his right, that housed his inkwells. He’d told her that his next letter to her would detail all that he was going to need help with this year, and before her letter arrived, he had every intention of including that information. Now, he decided to throw caution to the wind, as it were, in the letter. 

 

Severus spent the next two hours writing and revising his next letter to Hermione. Some he deemed too matter-of-fact; some he deemed too much in the vein of a love-letter straight away. He did not wish to scare her off when he didn’t even know if his feelings were reciprocated. 

 

_ Merlin’s balls, I’m not myself when I think about her. This is worse than Lily… _

 

_ This was worse than Lily…? _

 

That singular thought halted any progress in his current draft, as he sat unmoving in his chair as if someone had hit him with a  _ Petrificus Totalus.  _ Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought that any woman would have affect him more than Lily Evans had. But, his brain verbalized what his heart felt; that he had finally got over his first love. 

 

Lily would always be an integral part of his life ‒ he did spend twenty years of his life under two masters, trying to bring one of them down solely because of her,  _ and _ because of the love she’d had for her son – but he no longer held a torch for the fiery redhead he’d admired throughout his youth. 

 

Smiling, and feeling as though a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders, Severus went back to writing his next note. After a few more revisions and additions, he finally felt that this one was ready for sending. Severus cast a quick Tempus charm; it was ten pm.

 

_ Would she still be awake? Wait, this is is Hermione Granger … she would probably still be awake at two, reading by the window-sill.  _

 

Severus whistled sharply, and Shylock came gliding toward him. He carefully rolled up the letter and tied it to Shylock’s leg. 

 

“Go to the same window as you did the last time. I have a feeling that she will be there. Wait for a reply. Thank you, friend.” 

 

Severus wandlessly opened the window in his sitting room, so that he didn’t have to get up from his desk chair immediately. Shylock took off from the sill, and was soon soaring through the mild August evening. Severus knew he wouldn’t get any sleep until she responded to him, and to the request he had made at the end of this letter. 

 

*SSHG*

 

After Hermione had sent her letter with Shylock, she tried as hard as she could to tamper down her nervous excitement. She knew she wouldn’t be receiving a response tonight, but she was just too jazzed about the evening’s events as a whole. From the teaching assistant position being offered, to sitting next to him at dinner, the way he inadvertently snuck in to the conversation his hopes of her being his apprentice, and did she mention him sitting next to her at dinner? The thought of the heat that had radiated from him as he’d sat only inches from her, made her shiver again just thinking about it. 

 

Needless to say, even if she was remotely fatigued, there was no way she would be sleeping anytime soon. 

 

That was how she found herself back in the library, in her favorite place by the window yet again, immersed in  _ A Midsummer Night’s Dream _ . The love square between the four protagonists remained one of her favourite parts of the whole play. 

 

But, with every reread, she identified more and more with Helena, the woman on the outside looking in, whilst in her mind, Severus was Demetrius: the object of her unrequited affections. 

 

She knew that Severus, much like Demetrius, was in love with another woman, who in turn, was in love with another man. Whenever she reached Helena’s soliloquy, Hermione would inevitably feel tears forming in her eyes. 

 

“For ere Demetrius looked on Hermia's eyne,

He hailed down oaths that he was only mine;

And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt,

So he dissolved, and show'rs of oaths did melt.”

 

A few weeks after the Final Battle, when Severus had been recovering at St Mungo’s, Harry told her about the memories. He needed someone else to know about his loyalties, and how they never wavered, and why. This was, of course, before the trial that was held as soon as Severus had fully recovered. 

 

He was exonerated of all charges because of those memories, in addition to the testimonies of individuals like Harry and herself, much to his chagrin. Despite her burgeoning feelings for the professor, Hermione knew deep-down that she could never compete with the memory of Lily Evans Potter. So, she remained the Helena of her own story for the moment, trying desperately not to follow her Demetrius around like a love-sick spaniel.

 

She heard a  _ caw  _ and multiple tappings against the glass, breaking her out of her destructive reflections. She looked through the glass, only to see the onyx eyes of Shylock, flapping his wings repeatedly and continuously cawing, as if to say, “Let me in!” 

 

Hermione pushed open the window, allowing Shylock to glide easily into the room. 

 

“Will you be quiet? You’ll wake everyone in the house with that noise,” she scolded. “You’ve certainly had more than your share of exercise tonight, haven’t you?”  

 

She petted the top of his head as she loosened the note on his leg, grasping it in her hand. Ceasing her petting, she grabbed her wand with her right hand.  

 

“Accio biscuit!” 

 

Within seconds, a full buscuit of appeared in her hand, and she broke of a piece and gave it to her favorite messenger. 

 

“Relax now.” 

 

Shylock rested on the window-sill, breaking apart his treat, as Hermione unravelled his reply. 

 

_ Miss Granger _

 

_ It truly is an honour to not only have you as my assistant, but to, as you so eloquently put it, render you speechless after all these years. One of my life-long dreams has been achieved  _

 

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh.  _ Such cheek… _

 

_ I am also relieved to hear that you accept my offer to become my apprentice, even though I told you to think about it for more than a few hours. You might find that during your tenure as my assistant, that you cannot stand to be around your old, acerbic Potions professor. Only time will tell… _

 

_ Now, I know that I mentioned this letter would entail all the details of your duties for the upcoming school year, but I find that it would be terribly long and tedious for me to do so on paper.  _

 

_ So I propose, if it is not too much of an imposition, that you join me tomorrow for tea, so that we may discuss everything in person. Say, two pm? Perhaps you could even join us for lunch in the Great Hall. I know Minerva is dying to see her favorite lioness.  _

 

_ I look forward to your reply. Shylock knows to come back with one, even if it is beyond midnight.  _

 

“For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.”

 

_ Your faithful servant,  _

 

_ S.S. _

 

Hermione couldn’t breathe. 

 

The tears that had threatened to leave her eyes whilst reading the play finally spilled onto her cheeks at his words. 

 

_ Meet him for tea? _

 

_ That quote! It's from Henry VI! It's my favorite Shakespearean history! _

 

_ “Your faithful servant?” _

 

Her brain was moving at a million miles per minute. She re-read the letter so many times that, after a few minutes, she knew she had it memorised. Maybe she was reading too much into his words - it was late, and the excitement had her body feeling electrified. But maybe, just maybe, her role as Helena would change. 

 

She quickly Accio’d parchment, a quill and ink, and wrote a hasty reply before sending it with Shylock, back to Severus. Even though she knew there would be no reply this evening, she still wasn’t able to settle herself down to sleep. She wasn’t even sure if reading would help, at this point. 

 

All she could see in her mind was his face, his fingers, his eyes … and suddenly her body felt stifling, and she needed to get out of her constricting clothes. Hermione pulled the curtains closed at the window, warded the door and cast a Silencing Charm. 

 

_ Wouldn't do to wake the other occupants of the house, now, would it? _

 

Within seconds, she was completely nude, and her lithe body was draped over the chaise-lounge. She closed her eyes, and images of Severus invaded her mind. She imagined how it would feel to have his silver tongue caressing the stiff peaks of her nipples. Or how his slightly-calloused fingers would feel against her sodden lips, as his digits entered her with deft precision. 

 

Her own fingers paled in comparison to the fantasies she was brewing up, but she frantically rubbed her clit with her right index finger, whilst tugging on her nipples with her left. This was not a leisurely night in her tub, caressing every in of her body; this was a frantic need for release. It did not take her long to reach her peak. She only had to think of everything that had happened tonight, combined with her fantasy-Severus saying; “Come, Hermione,” in his silken voice. 

 

Removing her hand from her clit, and steadying her breathing after the intense orgasm, she grabbed a blanket from the ground and wrapped it around her nude form. She picked up her discarded clothes from the floor, removed the ward from the door and headed towards the stairs. 

 

Once in her darkened bedroom, she flopped down onto the mattress, and seconds later, sleep finally took her. 

 

**SSHG** 

 

Severus paced back and forth for best part of an hour, so much so, that he was surprised he hadn’t made a hole in the wolfskin rug under him. He wasn’t sure if he’d been too forward in the letter, but after all the drafts he had written and tossed aside, he felt it was the best. 

 

He was almost ready to start pulling strands of his own hair out, in frustration, when he saw his familiar before the bird even had the chance to peck at the window. Severus opened it with a whispered “ _ Alohomora,”  _ and Shylock once again soared onto his shoulder. 

 

“Thank you, old friend. You’ve done splendidly tonight. Go, please rest.” 

 

With his dismissal, the raven flew toward his perch, whilst Severus sat back down in his chair, opening it with as much excitement as a first-year receiving their Hogwarts letter. 

 

_ Professor,  _

 

_ Trust me when I say that I highly doubt I will ever tire of our time together. Where you might be acerbic, I can, in turn, be quite vexing. I’m not sure what you signed up for, but alas, your fate is sealed and you are stuck with me.  _

 

_ I would be honoured to join you for lunch and tea! I suppose I should probably get used to where I shall be spending an inordinate amount of my time, shouldn’t I?  _

 

_ I can’t wait to see Minerva, I mean, Professor McGonagall, and all of my other former professors. It might have been only a few weeks, but I miss them, and Hogwarts, dearly.  _

 

_ I will be at the Apparition point outside the gate at twelve noon, sharp. I look forward to our afternoon together.  _

 

“The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together”

 

_ Yours,  _

 

_ Hermione J. Granger _

 

_ Our afternoon together. _ Again, with so few words, she had lit a fire in him that no Aguamenti charm could douse. 

 

_ The quote she used – she could only be talking about our lives in general, not OURS together...right? _

 

This game of quotes had him feeling like a bloody teenager again, and it was because of her. 

 

He knew that it was too late to send another reply, for it was well past midnight by now, but he was already making plans to have her wake up to something special. He just needed to get down to the greenhouses undetected ... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -The quote in Hermione's response is from Twelfth Night, Act III, scene III. 
> 
> -The quote in Severus second letter is from Henry VI, Act V, scene vii
> 
> -The quote in Hermione's second letter is from from All's Well That Ends Well, Act IV, scene iii.


End file.
